"Perhaps."
"Answer, yes or no."
"Well, yes; what then?"
The She-wolf gave a sigh of satisfaction, hurriedly drew a ring from her right hand, and passing it through the wicket to the unknown speaker, said—
"Carry that ring to the Major; I will wait for your answer here."
"Mind what you are about; the Commandant does not like to be disturbed for nothing."
"Do as I tell you. I answer for the rest."
"That's a poor bail," the other growled; "but no matter—I'll risk it. Wait."
The wicket closed. The She-wolf seated herself on the side of the moat, and with elbows resting on her knees, buried her head in her hands. By this time night had completely set in; in the distance, the fires lighted up by the Indians on the prairies shone like lighthouses through the gloom; the evening breeze soughed hoarsely through the tops of the trees, and the howls of the wild beasts were mingled at intervals with the strident laughter of the Indians. Not a star sparkled in the sky, which was black as ink; nature seemed covered with a cerecloth; all presaged an approaching storm. The She-wolf waited, motionless, as one of those patient sphynxes which have watched for thousands of years at the entrance of the Egyptian temples. A quarter of an hour elapsed, then a sound of bolts was heard, and the gates of the fort slightly opened. The She-wolf sprung up, as if moved by a spring.
"Come!" a voice said.